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A Spade brother runs their hell. As if any aspect of the society is heaven. We’re the minority. There are four of us, and today is my day to begin my journey to becoming a member. My father has reminded me what he expects of me every day of my life. The only reason I bother to show up is to stay alive. I couldn’t care less about the Lords. But most don’t. The Lords try to make you think you’re special. Most of us know the truth and see it for what it is—a curse.
“A well-fed devil is more loyal than a starving saint” has never been a truer statement than when it comes to the Lords.
In a world of shouting men, be the one who remains silent, my mother used to say all the time. If they cannot hear you, they won’t see you.
I’ve always preferred silence to mindless chitchat. Not because I wanted to go unnoticed but because they’re just words that mean nothing. No one cares how you feel or what you think. It’s about following rules and actions. A servant does as he’s told.
So what am I afraid of if death isn’t it? I’m afraid of failing those that I love. Of letting my brothers down and leaving them to fend for themselves. I hate being unable to protect the ones who rely on me. And that’s the only reason I’m even doing these fucking initiations.
Ever looked at someone and just knew they were too good for you? I don’t mean that out-of-your-league shit. I’m talking out of this universe. My brothers and I will be very wealthy and set for life—and so will our children and grandchildren. But even money can’t buy you love in our world. I can tell by her demeanor that she’s a princess who will live in some high-rise in New York, and I’ll be the monster who will live in the basement of a prison no one knows exists. We’re not the same.
Seniors who attend Barrington University get to fuck in there to prove they’re men. I think it’s pathetic and barbaric. But it confirms that they made it. So if I have to spread my legs to get ahead in this world dominated by men, then I’ll fucking do it. How hard can it be? It’s just sex.
The gunshot echoes through the large cathedral as her head hangs forward, and I feel my soul leave my body. She’s dead, and so is a part of myself. I no longer have one. I just sold it in exchange for I don’t know what. And deep down, I know it wasn’t worth it.
“The things I’m going to do to you…some you’ll like, others probably not. I’m going to make you my little fuck toy. You’ll cry…you’ll beg, and you’ll crawl on your hands and knees to me, begging to be played with like a mindless toy.”
I’m not one of those women who comes very hard—not until Haidyn. I was sixteen the first time I got myself off, and I was so disappointed. All my friends said how amazing it was. Earth-shattering. Not for me. But Haidyn has gotten me off twice now with just his fingers, and I was seeing stars both times. I can’t imagine what he can do with his mouth and dick.
I slide my arms under her limp body and pick her up, carrying her to her new home. I was telling the truth. How long she stays with me is up to her.
“Never shoot to wound. Always shoot to kill. And don’t talk too much. Don’t ask questions or explain why you want them dead. Just kill them, doll face.”
“Feeling anything is a weakness, darling. No one will take orders from a woman who cries.”
I learned at a young age that you don’t need a steel cage to be a prisoner. Sometimes all you need is to be left alone in a room by yourself with nothing but your own thoughts. You can drive yourself crazy all on your own. Or at least I know I can.
I’ve claimed her as mine, meaning I must protect her. She’s mine to fuck, mine to ruin, and mine to use. I wasn’t lying when I told her exactly what I would do to another man who thinks he can have what belongs to me.
